


Halos and Humans

by Pr_Anx



Series: Halos and Horns [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Angel!Gavin, Angel!Geoff, Angels and demons live on Earth, Demon!Ray, Demon!Ryan, M/M, Mentions of Jack and Griffon (But only slight)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 13:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3291611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pr_Anx/pseuds/Pr_Anx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael wants to ask him why he deserves someone like Gavin, what he sees about their world that makes it worth being here.  He’s always wondered how dark and simple it must be compared to Gavin’s world –like some kind of cheap knock-off.  It must be lonely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Halos and Humans

Gavin keeps his halo on the nightstand. From his side of the bed, Michael can just make out the glowing arc behind his wallet and a box of tissues. The sheets are white –something that took days to agree on and hours to clean properly-, and hang all the way down to the floor, swishing about softly in the breeze coming through the open bay window. The house wasn't exactly on the beach, but it was close enough to almost taste the salt in the air.

Michael watches Gavin stretch his thin arms, quiet yawns tuning into soft sighs. Sometimes he reaches over to pull the Brit down, back into bed so they could pretend, for a little while longer, that the world didn't exist. Other times, Michael’s happy enough just to follow his boyfriend’s movements as he stretches and coos and smiles contently.

Often, though, Michael’s content to pretend to be asleep, watching Gavin enjoy the breeze and sunlight, the coolness of the bed, or whatever it is that seems to bring him so much happiness –as well as an hour of blissful silence for Michael to enjoy.  


Gavin wiggles his shoulders and unfurls his wings, blowing the bay window’s canopy outwards. The billowing heap collapses in almost slow motion as he folds them in again, his downy brown feathers scratching against the sheets. Michael can’t help but hold his breath, drinking in the beauty of the sight in front of him as they slide silently back into position over his naked back.

After another moment, he fits the halo above his head, its glow warming his tawny hair. He rises from the bed with his wings tucked, toes touching the floor light as air as he seemingly glides across the room, his hips swaying as if he weighs nothing at all –though Michael knows better than anyone the man weighs an invisible ton.

Michael tries to catch a glimpse of Gavin’s ass as he walks, but his wing-tips are in the way, making Michael growl in frustration. Gavin turns at the sound, a small, sly grin making its way across his lips as he takes in his boyfriend’s scowl. He doesn't even think before diving back towards the bed to plant good morning kisses all over Michael’s, now playfully, scowling face.

“Good morning, my lovely Michael.” Gavin coos between kisses. Michael suddenly has a face full of feathers as he tries to respond, and, while it does dampen his mood, the arm full of angel he receives after the kisses is enough to cancel it out.

“Good morning, asshole.”  
\---  
Birds are just starting to sing outside, and Gavin’s running his long fingers through Michael’s hair. Each curl has its own moment with Gavin’s deft fingers, each knot giving way willingly and without a single painful tug. It’s enough to cause Michael to drift in and out of a lazy stupor.

Gavin has angel things to take care of –his own words, not Michael’s- but that comes secondary to the lazy morning and breakfast, though Michael’s fine with lying in bed all day, growling stomach be damned. Gavin’s already procured a slice of grapefruit, each bite ending with several moments of spoon-licking because apparently Gavin thinks it’s a waste to not do so every time.

By the time Gavin leaves the room to shower, Michael finally throws the sheets off and sits up slowly. It was days like this he was glad for his non-morning person personality. Lazy was something he enjoyed.  
\---  
It was another thirty minutes before Michael woke up again –though he swore he didn’t remember falling asleep again, the sight of Gavin lying on his stomach at the bottom of the bed, face propped up in his hands and a look of contentedness on his face was a wonderful sight to wake up to. At least he didn’t have to pretend to sleep now.

“Good morning, Michael.” Gavin coos again, though there’s sarcasm this time. 

Michael rolls his eyes, stands, stretches, and sighs at the wonderful zipper-like popping of his back before responding, “You already said that, moron.”  
\---  
By the time Michael’s dressed, Gavin already has two bowls of cereal out and is working on the second half of his grapefruit, humming something they had danced to last night. Michael grabs his bowl from the table and walks over to Gavin, and when they kiss, the taste of grapefruit makes Michael cringe –he never did like the taste, but the smell was to die for, really.

There’s twenty minutes in between the time they’re finally up until Gavin has to leave which they fill with love-making. Michael remembers before Gavin, it was ‘fucking’, or ‘nailing’, or ‘screwing’. It never seemed to fit for this though, never felt right using those words for what he and Gavin shared –even with their pants around their ankles, even with Gavin’s nails burning down his back leaving bright red trails in their wake, even with Gavin’s whorish moans –he seems so above this place and this act. Even biting his lip and arching his back, even spreading his wings in bliss, knocking over a vase from the shelf next to them –he seems so perfect and innocent.

Afterwards, Gavin preens and straightens himself while Michael cleans up –silently scolding himself for not noticing the vase before they’d started. A shared, short-lived but passionate kiss and Gavin’s gone in a flurry of feathers and a quick “I love you” before the door slammed shut.

Michael can’t help but smile and wonder what he did to deserve the life he was given.  
\---  
It’s noon before Michael even thinks to go out –and it’s only really thanks to a text from Ray asking him to come over. He nearly tells the Puerto Rican to shove his invite up his ass, but, after ten more deaths and no step closer to finishing The Binding of Issac, he decides he could use a few beers while he waits for Gavin.  
\---  
“You know, Michael, I can smell him on you,” Ryan says absently. He’s leaning back on the expensive leather couch he’d undoubtedly bought with counterfeit money. 

“That’s nice, Ryan,” Michael responded with a grimace, “just stop staring at me –your eyes are fucking weird when you’re hungry.” 

Ryan’s eyes practically glow at that, as do Ray’s –who’s been sitting cuddled so close to Ryan, Michael’s sure they’ve fused together by now. Ryan’s clawed hands are running through Ray’s hair and trailing up and down his short horns –it’s as close to affection as Alp’s, or Puck’s, or whatever Gavin explained them to be, could produce.

The room is dark, but it’s beach weather outside. All the blinds are closed and there’s a black bed sheet covering half of the sliding glass door that opens up into a weed-ridden backyard. There’s a deer’s head mounted above the fireplace –Michael’s sure it came with the house-, Geoff’s lying across a bamboo rocking chair in front of a wide-screen television –again, Michael’s sure it wasn’t bought legally. He’d been there since Michael arrived nearly two hours ago, more than likely drunk on whatever concoction the two had mixed for him.

“You spend way too much time with him,” Ray sighs, flicking his tail behind him rhythmically, “what do you two even do together?”

“I don’t know,” Michael mumbles over the mouth of his beer. He feels their eyes boring into him. They’re two of his best friends, but there’s always that feeling of weakness around them –almost like he’s an open book and they’re flipping through the pages, smirking and whispering to each other about how boring and normal Michael was.

Michael averts his eyes around the room for help, or inspiration, anything to take his mind off the glowing stares of his friends.

“We go to the beach sometimes,” He says after a moment, “play video games, watch shitty movies.”

Ray laughs, “yeah, but I mean,” and here he licks his lips, “what do you _do_?”

“I think I need another drink.” Is the only thing Michael can think to respond with as he gets up from the overly comfortable love seat.

“We’ve got Equis in the fridge,” Ryan offers.

“Hey man,” Geoff calls, his voice croaking and dry, “get me something, would you?”  
\---  
Michael wouldn’t say Ray and Ryan’s house was filthy, but if one were to look at the two, you’d imagine their house as a fancy, staff-cleaned mansion, not some cluttered could-be-classified-as-a-shack house in the middle of one of the worst neighborhoods. It wasn’t that Michael minded the clutter –because, beyond his understanding, it was oddly homey-, but it was the smell. Something akin to rotten eggs and vinegar, like sulfur.

It reminded Michael of back when he first met them and found out what they were –though the term for their kind still eludes him. He’d spent hours going over religious texts and occult books trying to learn anything he could. Most of the text wasn’t helpful –he’d never seen either Ray or Ryan devour a soul, and he doubted they’d enjoy one more than they enjoyed the shitty dollar burgers from the McDonalds down the street.

In fact, the only thing the two had in common with the demons written about were the horns and tail, and the smell of sulfur that lingered anywhere they stayed for more than a day –as well as the mischief they caused, but that had toned down quite a bit since the three of them met.

There’s some chilled beer and liquor crammed into the back of the fridge behind weird bottles and dark plastic jars filled with thick yellow and green juices and the odd open can of Coke. In the other room, Michael can hear Ryan and Ray giggling and whispering, and he just knows they’re about to go at it.

Michael takes his time digging for a beer, it’s more from caution than unwillingness to return to the other room –who knows what the two had lying about in their fridge. 

He can hear Ray cooing and breathing heavy from the living room and shudders, wondering what Geoff’s doing, if he’s watching them. Michael decides to wait.  
\---  
The noise from the other room quiets down, so Michael figures it’s safe to enter the living room again. He grabs a bottle of Equis and makes his way back to the living room to find Ryan and Ray lying in a heap, loosely clothed, on the floor. Ryan’s got light claw marks travelling down his arms and the back of his neck. Surprisingly, Geoff was focused on the television in front of him, thumbs tapping wildly as he battles through undead hoards. 

Michael catches his attention and tosses him the bottle –which the man catches at the expense of another death.

“I hope all those moonlit walks on the beach and shitty movies are worth it, Michael,” Ryan says, pulling his pants on, “because you have no idea what you’re missing.”  
\---  
Soon enough, Michael grows bored of watching Geoff play and suggests they go out. Ryan says they don’t have anything else to do, so what the hell?

It’s a long walk down to the mall, but they’re used to walking everywhere –no one thought to buy a car since Geoff’s old Toyota rusted out. Geof blinks in the daylight, and tries to get a glimpse at the sun through wincing eyes and fanned fingers. He seems surprised, like maybe he didn’t expect it to be this bright in the middle of the day.

Ryan’s unfurled one vast, leathery wing to shade Ray, who clutches him tightly, his claws digging playfully into Ryan’s skin.

“I’m feeling like barbeque,” Ryan says, “let’s get Mongolian for lunch.” They all mumble various forms of yeah, sure, why not? 

Geoff glances up at the cloudless blue sky, “I can’t take this fucking sun,” He mumbles, trying to keep up with the others, “it’s hot as dicks out here.”

Michael watches the scarred stubs of what were once his wings twitch painfully on Geoff’s back.  
\---  
They’re passing by the little shops and restaurants downtown when Ryan stops.

“Hang on,” He says, “I need to buy five bottles of peroxide.”

They stand out front of the pet shop next door, Ray flipping through his phone, Geoff pawing the ground with his shoes, trying to find loose shells and pebbles to kick around or crunch. Michael watches the puppies pawing and lapping at them through the glass. He almost wants to take one home, but he knows it’d just ruin the furniture and crap all over the carpet –and there was no way Gavin would help him clean up after it.

“They raise those things in dark warehouses.” Geoff says randomly. Michael’s sure he’s not even looked up from the gum-littered sidewalk. Michael ignores him in favor of asking Ray why Ryan would need five bottles of peroxide, but his blood-red eyes just stare indifferently at Michael for a second before he shrugs and returns to his phone.

“Some of the puppies, if they get sold, they probably lead long happy lives of fetching papers and getting scratched behind the ears.” Geoff continues, “It must be some kind of dog heaven, just to have a family to belong to.”  


Ray hums absently, eyes never leaving his phone.

“Some of them aren’t that lucky, though,” Michael isn’t sure who Geoff is talking to, but he lets him ramble to fill the silence.  
\---  
“What happened to your halo, Geoff?” Michael asks. Ryan and Ray are switching parking tickets between the cars as they walk along the empty shorefronts. They stop sometimes to share deep, breathless kisses and shameless gropes. Michael can’t help but pity the person who’s going to pay a forty-dollar ticket they didn’t earn –as well as the confused person who’s going to have Ray’s ass print on the dusty hood of their Mustang. He has to wonder what they’ll make of the tail-marks Ray’s swept out.

“It’s around.” Geoff replies almost cheerily. Michael’d known Geoff for years, nearly a full two years longer than he’d known Ray and Ryan, but it wasn’t until he’d started dating Gavin that Michael found out he was an angel. Or, was. It was hard to imagine that the same guy who had seven stitches from crashing through a glass-top coffee table in a drunken stupor is supposed to be some kind of a celestial being.

“So you don’t know where it is?” Ryan and Ray are making out under a dogwood in front of a family diner, Ray’s little bat wings fluttering and his pointed tail whipping around behind him, carving out small nicks in the bark with the rough scales.

“Of course I know where it is.” Geoff huffs, shoving his tattooed hands into his pockets. “Just what do I look like to you, some kind of dickhead that loses his halo?”

Michael eyes him doubtfully, “So you know where it is, but you don’t actually have it.” A pudgy man with an apron and a little paper clerk’s hat comes out of the diner, asking Ryan and Ray to ‘quit with that nonsense’. Michael’s sure he means the furious dentistry they’re performing on each other.

“It’s not like I fucking pawned it or anything,” Michael can hear Ray laughing behind them as Ryan smoothly tells the man to fuck off. “I know this guy, Jack. I can trust him, and he knows I’ll come back for it. Anyways, don’t know why some dickhead would even want it. I mean, what could they even do with it?”

“Well, whatever you used it for, I guess.” Michael shrugs, glancing back at Ryan and Ray to see the smaller man hissing at a middle-aged woman through the diner’s big street-facing window. “Someone would want a halo, right? I mean, God’s sign of His presence –that’s gotta fucking worth something.”

“Who fucking knows. Doesn’t mean a thing to me.” Geoff says, squinting up at the sky.  
\---  
Gavin works at a small lingerie shop at the mall. Supposedly, he and he others have a little network going all across the country. Michael remembers him saying they have forty store managers.

He’s working the register, nodding curtly and listening to the customers with an easy look of concern and attention. Michael watches him for a moment, thinking about how beautiful he is –even surrounded by see-through lace and panties with ‘honk if you’re horny’ written on them. 

He wants to tell Gavin how much he loves him, but all he can manage is, “Hey Gavin, you look great” as he drifts towards him. 

Gavin smiles brightly, waving excitedly at the sight of Michael.

They mostly talk about each other’s days so far –it’s small talk, but Michael can’t get enough of Gavin no matter what they’re talking about.

Michael tells him about Geoff and his halo –tells him he doesn’t think it’s right, for him to just get rid of it like that. 

“Don’t you guys need it for something?” 

“Yeah, sure you need it. You can get by without it for a while, though, just like anything else you own.” Gavin shrugs. “And, if it comes right down to it, ‘s just a thing.”

“Seems kind of important to me. If I had one, I wouldn’t just leave it with random people.” Gavin giggles, leaning over the check-out counter to plant a short kiss on Michael’s cheek.

“Don’t worry about Geoff, love, he’s lost his bloody wings anyway. Having his halo won’t change anything.”

“Why not? Doesn’t he have another chance or something? That’s how you guys work, right?”

“He’s had his chances, Michael.” Gavin sighs, and Michael drops it.

“So, you never explained…this to me.” Michael says, gesturing to the lingerie around them. "With everything you can do, isn’t this place, y’know, kind’a beneath you?”

Gavin shrugs again, his wings whispering behind him. “I think we’re doing great work here.”

“Really? Can’t you guys save people’s lives right before they get into a car crash? Can’t you tell people not to get onto a plane that’s going to fall out of the sky?” Gavin shook his head with a grin at Michael’s adorable confusion.

“I’ve heard you can heal people, can’t you heal the lame and sick or something?”

“You’re thinking about guardian angels, love –that’s not my thing. And I’ve done healing, Michael, loads of it. It just gets really repetitive, and afterwards they’re not thankful for very long anyways. It’s like the speeding ticket of miracles.”

“Then what’s so special about this place?”

“What’s that mean?”

“Well, look around you,” Michael gestures to the crowd of young women and couples sifting through the tote bags and pull-out drawers of colorful panties. At the back of the store, Ray’s trying to tell some girl and her mom how thongs are considered classy and sophisticated these days, while Ryan’s trying to get them to look at a pair of crotchless panties. 

“Don’t you think you should be doing something more worthy?”

“Ten years ago, this store stood for nothing but sex and lust. Now mothers bring their daughters here. We sell as many thongs as we do tank-tops.” Sure enough, there are two little teenyboppers trying to figure out what color sweaters they should buy.

“But isn’t there, like, some higher plan?”

Gavin sighs, sorting change into his till, “Maybe there used to be. I don’t bloody know.” Out of the corner of his eye, Michael sees Ray and Ryan leave the store, joining Geoff, who was standing against the storefront, blocking everyone’s view of the mannequins in the window.

Ryan pulls a bottle of peroxide out of his shopping bag, the label ripped off cleanly from each bottle, and hands them to a group of lanky teenagers. He’s pretty sure Ryan’s trying to pass it off as some sort of fancy moonshine he’d home-brewed.  


He can hear the teenagers asking Geoff if Ryan’s stuff is really as good as he says it is.

“It’s not for you guys,” Geoff responds lazily, “you should stick to beer.” They buy three bottles.

“People like us, like Ryan and Ray, and even Geoff –we’re supposed to have a mission. We just forget or get bored of it.” Gavin says with a look of contemplation. Michael hums, though he’s not sure he really understands.

“Whatever.” Michael mumbles, pushing himself off the wall beside the check-out. “Meet me at the skating rink tonight at eight, don’t forget.”

“Aw, you don’t have to go now, do you?” Gavin coos, grabbing Michael’s arm to drag him closer. Michael rolls his eyes, and they kiss until a customer clears her throat.  
\---  
“I can’t stand that place anymore,” Ray complains, pulling the strings absently on his hoodie, “the angels have had it under their thumbs for too damn long, it’s no fun.”

“No fun at all, my little imp.” Ryan agrees. Sometimes, Michael wonders why the hundreds of other people in the food court don’t notice their horns –or at least the huge bat wings they have folded awkwardly behind them in the little booth seat.  


“And they’ve been meddling at Hot Topic, too, you know,” Ray continues, glaring at no one in particular, “I saw this middle-aged woman wearing Crocs in there last week. No one even said anything.” He takes a slow, rueful draw from his near-empty soda cup, his cranky stare daring anyone to get pissed off with the gurgling noise it makes.

“Come on, Geoff,” He says, pulling at the bored man’s sleeve, “we’re gonna go see what people are reading at Barnes and Noble.”  
\---  
“You guys got any set-ups like the angels have the lingerie store?” Michael asks, already bored of the food court hustle and bustle.

“Not many,” Ryan says, “see the guy over there, near the sunglass hut?” He points one clawed finger over Michael’s shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“He’s one of us.” The guy’s talking up some couple, trying to take the girl’s hand and rub something on her arm. Michael watches him lick his lips with a forked tongue.

“We’ve got a lot of guys who only want to be cops,” Ryan continues, “they just want to rough people up and shit like that. It used to be popular to be a lobbyist. I think we still have a few politicians.”

“Well, what are you guys doing, you and Ray? Aren’t you guys supposed to be corrupting someone or something?”

“How do you know we’re not?” Ryan shrugs boredly, taking a slow draw of what’s left of Ray’s soda –Michael can’t guess there’s much left. His eyes are trained on Ray and Geoff in the bookstore being snooty to some guy in the self-help aisle. They catch his attention and shake their heads disapprovingly.

The poor guy kind of deflates and shuffles away, holding the book like something unpleasant someone else gave him to hang on to for a moment. Geoff hangs back a bit, listening to Ray laugh, before catching up with Self-help, trying to console him, maybe telling him it was just a stupid joke.

“You ever hear about those nasty Papal elections in the middle ages that would end with blood in the streets and armed gangs walking around clubbing everyone who backed the wrong guy?” Michael responds with a curt _Maybe I do, yeah_. “We used to pull that kind of thing.” Ryan nods to himself, maybe remembering the good days, reminiscing about choking some bishop in the alleys of Rome.

In the bookstore, Ray is pulling Geoff aside and scolding him, maybe telling him not to ruin his fun, maybe trying to tell him that he should take this more seriously.

“I guess it does get a little boring after a while,” Ryan says after a contemplative hum, “and it’s not as easy to corrupt people anymore, not as easy as you might think, and not even half as rewarding.”

Geoff is sulking out of the bookstore with his head down. Michael can see Ray watching him, tapping his foot and folding his arms –only vaguely fuming. The self-help guy taps on his shoulder, looking like he’s trying to talk to Ray politely, though it’s easy to tell it’s only thanks to the throng of people streaming around them now. 

Ray watches the man, glaring, working his jaw like he’s trying not to bring forth a storm of curses that could turn a sailor’s ears red. Self-help doesn’t get very far into his speech about how he’s not ashamed to want to try and get his life back on track –at least, that’s what Michael thinks he’s trying to say. If Self-help’s continuous motions toward the book in his hands served as a hint. Ray bites back at him with some quick retort and gives the man the finger as he scuttles away.

“People just aren’t that good anymore,” Ryan says thoughtfully. “Maybe we’ve done our job too well.”  
\---  
You can just about see the ocean from Michael’s old apartment if the trees are blowing the right way. He and Geoff are sitting on the front steps, sharing a couple of beers and waiting for eight o’clock to roll around.

Michael used to live here, until he decided he was sick of having to invite his boyfriend over all the time –since Gavin was too shy at the time to just appear on his doorstep.

Where Gavin got the four-bedroom cottage they live in now, Michael never asked –already sure Gavin would just say “God provides”. Sometimes Michael wonders why Gavin’s even with him, why he’s there at all. Michael figures the answer would be the same.  


God provides, indeed.

“You can almost see the ocean from here,” Geoff says, craning his neck to see past the swaying line of trees. “I forgot about that.”

“This place was shit, but yeah, you can almost see it from here, sure.”

“Sorry about the table, by the way.”

“I’m not,” Michael smirks, “hated the thing since my mom bought it for me. Sorry about the stitches.”

Geoff stares down into his bottle almost solemnly, “I guess I had it coming. I was dumb as dicks.”

“You were pretty drunk for most of that, you sure you remember all that?”

“Yeah, sure I do.”

They watch the beach-goers going in and out of the water –most of them realizing they’ve got big, bright burns all across their backs. A few guys are finishing off their beers and putting away their tackle. Some kid’s crying because the tide’s coming in and he doesn’t want to leave his sand castle to be washed away.

“I’m sorry about the stereo, too.” Geoff chuckles after a moment of silent observance.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll pay it back sometime.”

“Whatever, man. Don’t worry about it, though.”

Michael remembers the first time he’d met Gavin –right on that same beach. He’d been the only one to say anything about the man’s wings. Gavin’s counter-complaint had been about Michael getting too much beauty sleep, to save some for other people.  


They’d ended the night curled up against each other, the entire apartment covered in feathers and smelling of sex. 

After they started dating, they would go out to the beach around this time of day. The tourists would all be packing it in and soon Gavin and Michael were the only ones schlepping out with two fold-out chairs and a couple of drinks, hunting shells along the shore even though it’d already been combed over a hundred times. Most of the time, Gavin would find all the good stuff –colorful sea glass, whole sand dollars, even unscathed conch shells seemed to appear at his feet.

Gavin called it divine providence.

Michael called it cheating.

They’d sit out on the beach watching the sunset and the darkness creep in over the water, until it washed over them and they were alone except for a few lights behind them, and a few distant ones in the water and in the sky.

“What do you think about Gavin, Geoff? I mean, you two go way back, right?” Michael asks, taking the last sip of his beer. By now, the sun’s started going down –Michael guesses it’s getting close to eight.

“Gavin?” Geoff responds, “He’s…hard to explain, harder to understand. He’s good people, though. The British thing he’s got going is a little annoying sometimes, but you learn to live with it.” Michael nods, unable to help the smile that finds its way onto his face.

“Hang on to him, Michael. This’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him, and I’ve known the asshole for sixty years.” That alone makes Michael giddy. He knows Gavin and Geoff talk almost every day. Sometimes he wonders what exactly they talk about, but it’s not on him to be nosey. He’s just glad whatever Gavin’s telling the elder angel about Michael is good.

“Yeah, I know.” Is all Michael can think to reply with.  


“I mean it,” Geoff says seriously, “He’s good. Like, completely good. He’d never be the same if you let him go. It’d fucking destroy him.”

“I’m not saying I’m going to, but I think he’s a little bit stronger than that, don’t you?”

“Don’t be so sure, Michael. Kid’s one big bleeding heart when it comes to this gushy, romance-y stuff.”

“Hey!” Ryan shouts from the sidewalk. “We ought to go, huh?”  
\---  
The skating rink behind Michael’s old apartment had been about to go out of business for as long as any of them could remember. No one would let it, though. Too many memories of first kisses and, even though it smelled of piss and old popcorn, romance. Too many first dates and educated-guess groping beneath the cheap strips of neon glow-in-the-dark tape and green plastic stars. 

Gavin said a place like that couldn't really die until all those memories are gone.

Every Friday night the rink is packed with twenty-something’s taking a break from their adult lives. Geoff used to gripe about how they should all just move on and forget how they made friends there or got shorted by the soda machine. That some of them maybe should be ashamed of the things they’ve done –one too many people stood up or left out of the couple’s skate.

But something keeps pulling them back to the hypnotizing darkness and the bright lights.

Maybe it’s the flowing mass of strangers and old friends, the endless curve that you can climb out of at any spot and find a bench to rest on, maybe even try to cop a feel on at some point.

At the rink, the aims is to be aimless –it’s enough just to keep pace and move with the crowd.

The rink is Geoff’s favorite place, even though all he ever does is watch from the sidelines.

“Everyone’s happy,” He’d told Michael once, “or at least, they look like it. Or if they’re unhappy, at least they have something else to think about for a while.”

Gavin and Michael are skating easily, hand-in-hand. It surprises Michael almost constantly how light on his feet Gavin is when they’re skating. For someone who couldn’t stand up without stumbling at least three times, he was a great skater.  


“Can you ever go back?” Michael asks. 

“No,” Gavin says with a small smile, “but I don’t think I’d want to anyway.” Michael catches the hidden meaning behind those words and tugs Gavin around so he speeds up and almost slips. Gavin laughs, the blush on his cheeks bright even in the fake twilight.

Ryan and Ray are sharing a root beer float –something they’d come to love since Michael showed them this place when they first met- off by the dining area.

Michael’d always liked them. They’re not bad people, he knows, and they love each other he’s sure. Michael’s glad at least they have someone to love.

The old, recycled music is loud enough that there’s no need to talk, the hissing sound of a hundred skate wheels reminding Michael of a long ocean wave, ebbing and flowing as the music changes. You could almost think the maze of green plastic stars above was the real night sky. It’s almost a shock to see the coldly lit and distant stars of the real night sky after spending half the night in the rink.  
\---  
Michael asks Gavin, “What happens if you lose your wings?”

Gavin laughs, a cheeky glimmer in his eyes as he responds, “Well, for one thing, you can’t fly.”  
\---  
The music changes again –the loud, rolling breakers of skating noise changes to a low hiss and bubble, the sound of the couple’s skate. Some people leave the rink, others pull each other close. Michael sees Ray drag Ryan out onto the floor to join in. Near the broken arcade machines, Geoff is talking to a blonde woman with nearly as many tattoos as him.

Michael watches the brown expanse of Gavin’s wings wrap around them, the canopy of feathers warming the glaring light. The shifting colors seem to change more slowly, and then not at all, simply flowing across Gavin’s face as he watches Michael, lighting his blushing cheeks, brushing through his hair. 

Gavin watches him with curious green eyes. Michael wonders what he’s thinking about, but for now, it’s just the two of them, hidden beneath the canopy of Gavin’s wings as they slowly spin on the rink’s floor. 

Michael wants to ask him why he deserves someone like Gavin, what he sees about their world that makes it worth being here. He’s always wondered how dark and simple it must be compared to Gavin’s world –like some kind of cheap knock-off. It must be lonely.

Any love Michael could give him must be a shadow of what Gavin knew before but, staring into his eyes, Michael knows that Gavin is truly, totally contented.

“Gav?” Gavin hums quietly. “What’s it like to be here?” Gavin’s smile drops slightly.

“What if,” He says,” “what if your parents sent you away when you were very young? What if all you ever wanted was to make them happy, to do the right thing in their eyes?” Michael wants nothing more than to take back his question, to hold Gavin close and forget about his dumb curiosity. 

“Imagine yourself young and helpless. All you ever wanted was to study at your father’s feet, to know your mother’s loving touch. Imagine being lost, without enough of either knowledge or love. What if you never knew if they were watching? Never even knew if they were still alive?” Michael couldn’t imagine any of that, and he never wanted to.

“What if you started to imagine that you’d just imagined everything?” Gavin whispered. He didn’t look sad anymore, but there was something painfully nostalgic behind his eyes. 

“It must be lonely.” Michael whispers back, his arms around Gavin’s waist unconsciously holding tighter to him.

Gavin smiles, soft and loving, before leaning down, resting his head on his curly-haired boyfriend’s shoulder with a light sigh. Flashing green and blue beams light the canopy of his wings as they kiss slowly, the light of Gavin’s halo burning a little brighter, casting them both in an orange glow.

“It’s not so lonely anymore.” Gavin says, “Not with you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly don't know where this came from, I just kinda went with the idea.  
> Hope it's not too shit~


End file.
